


A Collection Of Moments

by afteriwake



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Awesome Molly, BAMF Molly, Beards (Facial Hair), Cute Sherlock, Developing Relationship, Domestic Fluff, Drabble Collection, Drabble Sequence, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Hurt Molly, Hurt/Comfort, Marriage, Marriage Proposal, Married Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper, Mistletoe, Molly Is Patient, Nervous Sherlock, POV Molly Hooper, POV Sherlock Holmes, Poor Molly, Pregnancy, Relationship(s), Self-Defense, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Fluff, Sherlock Holmes/Molly Hooper Kissing, Sherlock is Married to His Work, Sherlock is Not a Virgin, Sherlock is a Good Parent, Sherlock is a Sex God
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-26
Updated: 2015-12-26
Packaged: 2018-05-09 12:38:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5540255
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/pseuds/afteriwake
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There are many moments, both momentous and mundane, that mark the story of the relationship between Sherlock Holmes and Molly Hooper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Collection Of Moments

**Author's Note:**

  * For [mellovesall](https://archiveofourown.org/users/mellovesall/gifts).



> This was my 2015 Sherlolly Secret Santa gift to the amazing **mellovesall**! Since Tumblr's ask system only lets you send short messages anonymously, I sent various sections of the fic to her as often as I could. She didn't get all of these, however; some of them Tumblr didn't send for some reason and some of them I saved specifically to be a surprise for the reveal. But this is the completed story, in the right order (I was mean and sent them all out of order), and I really hope you enjoy it, dear. ::snuggles::

She wondered, in the quiet times between them, what was on his mind. Were they big thoughts? Little thoughts? Thoughts of cases? Of friends? Ways to annoy Mycroft? She'd never thought he thought of her, though, until the day he'd kissed her, told her he couldn't stop thinking about her, the way she'd look at him and smile, the way she smelled when she stood close, the way her eyes were always so bright, and how he never wanted to stop.

**\---**

He had marveled that she’d ever want to spend any time with him, be anything more with him. See anything in him, after all these years, after the callous way he’d treated her, after the way he’d pulled away after Tom, after the way he’d distanced himself after Janine, that made her want to stay. But as she wormed her way closer, as she slipped her hand into his, as she looked up at him with a smile that called a smile upon his own face, he was thankful for it, more thankful for it than she would ever truly know.

**\---**

It wasn’t safe for her to be at her flat, and she knew that. His offer to stay at Baker Street was tempting. The threat Moriarty posed was too great. She wouldn’t mind being close to him, and she would feel safe. The fact he wanted to protect her made her feel warm, though. Made her feel that he truly cared. And she knew he would keep her safe, no matter what it took, and so that was why she agreed with no regrets. She looked around her new home, looked at Sherlock there, and finally felt safe.

**\---**

He loved watching her dance. He’d pretend he wasn’t paying attention, immersed in an experiment or his papers but he’d stare at her with a rather open desire on his face. And then one day he’d had enough and got out of his chair, taking her in his arms and twirling her out before pulling her back in. She looked up at him with wide eyes, shock on her face, and then a slow smile spread on her face. “Dance with me?” she asked.

“With pleasure,” he replied.

**\---**

Molly loved to make Sherlock laugh. It bubbled out of him from nowhere, this deep rumble of a laugh. If she could make him laugh until his belly ached, until tears leaked out of the corners of his eyes, those were the best laughs. But the quiet chuckles, usually followed by a close embrace while his chest still vibrated with the laughter, those were quite nice too. The sound of his laughter was music to her ears, the most glorious of all sounds she could ever hear.

**\---**

He watched her throw the punch and the man go down with one fell swoop. His eyes widened and he felt the wide grin spread across his face as she stood over the mugger, glaring down at him. “And you had best not get any ideas of trying to steal anyone _else’s_ handbag, or so help me, I’ll chemically castrate you,” she said, ending the sentence in a huff. Then she looked at Sherlock. “Bit much?”

He shook his head. Dinner and a film could wait. He had much more interesting ideas for how to spend their evening now.

**\---**

She stretched in bed and then made to leave but he pulled her back against him, nuzzling her neck. Last night had been spectacular. He had told her everything Janine had said was lies, but there had to have been _some_ truth because...wow. That was all she could think of: _wow_. He had been so _very_ impressive. She entwined her legs with his for a moment before the nuzzling became lips on her neck and his hand began to wander. "Round two?" he asked.

"Mmm...round two," she agreed.

**\---**

She had the softest skin, he'd found. He'd examined all of her bathing products, her assortment of lotions and oils, and he just couldn't pin down what did it. But he knew he liked the various smells (jasmine was his favorite, then honeysuckle, then freesia...the cranberry in December he could do without) and he loved the feel of it against his lips when he kissed the back of her wrist or the nape of her neck, or when held her close as they slept entwined, naked under the sheets.

**\---**

Mrs. Hudson held the ridiculous sprig of mistletoe over their heads. "Now kiss, dears," she said.

He rolled his eyes but Molly just grinned. "Well, if we must, we must," she said before grabbing his shirt. He took the hint and kissed her passionately, pulling her close against him, not caring that their secret was out for everyone to see. 

When they were done he saw their friends staring with slack jaws and wide eyes. He looked at her with a smirk. "Bedroom?" 

Molly grinned and nodded. “Bedroom.”

**\---**

She sat squarely on his abdomen, knees by his ribs, legs by his sides, hands pinning his wrists over his head. He looked up at her, amused. "You think you've bested me?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I think I've got you in a good position," she said, before removing one hand and starting to tickle him. He was so surprised it took him a minute before he began to laugh, and soon both hands were ruthlessly going for the ticklish spots she knew so well, making him laugh till he cried.

**\---**

The day Sherlock arrived at Barts with three days worth of stubble on his cheeks and chin, she felt she might have swooned. Legitimately swooned, like women in the Regency era romance novels she adored. She didn't mind the whisker burn at all as she pulled him close, kissed him multiple times and dragged him off to the supply closet for a bit of fun. And oh, it had been _quite_ fun. Needless to say, he didn't mind not having to shave every single day after that.

**\---**

He took in the burgundy coloured gown and the gloves, the curled hair in the elaborate hairdo and the fan, and suddenly he didn't mind being in the Regency era clothes for the Jane Austen event she had been dying to attend. He offered her his arm and she accepted with a smile and an inclination of her head. "Miss Hooper, you do look exquisite," he said, leading her out into the ballroom.

"Why, thank you, Mr. Holmes," she said as he led her into a waltz, content for the first time all day.

**\---**

She’d gotten the text from Sherlock to meet him outside the hospital. It was an unusual text, as he didn’t end it with his initials as he usually did, and that should have tipped her off, she realized as she felt a hand clasp over her mouth and nose and a sickly sweet smell overpower her. Her last conscious thought was that she never should have left the safety of the morgue, that she should have called Sherlock to see what he wanted, and now it was too late.

**\---**

He gripped the note in his hand, ice in his veins. _I have your plaything, Holmes. Come and find her before it's too late...if you can._ Moriarty had Molly. He felt real fear deep in his soul. If he harmed her, if he _killed_ her, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. He loved Molly. He loved her and he hadn’t told her and if he didn’t…if he didn’t he wasn’t sure he could live with that regret. He had to find her. He had to make sure she knew.

**\---**

She liked it when it was quiet but she could feel his presence, so solid and reassuring, when she simply knew he was there. He filled it with a warmth he didn't even realize. whether it was the morgue or the path lab or Baker Street, there was a pleasing reassurance to him being in the same room with her. She was glad for it. She drew on the memory of it as she waited in this dark, windowless room, knowing he would find her soon. He would tear the world apart for her. He _would_ find her.

**\---**

He held her close as he glanced over at the motionless body a few yards away. "You're safe now," he said, stroking her hair back, holding her close as he heard sirens approaching. She was alive. Battered and bruised and in need of medical care, but alive and in his arms and all was right with his world again. Moriarty hadn't taken her away, hadn't made his world cold and dark and bleak again. There was still light, still hope. He pressed a kiss to her temple. She was still alive, and all would be well.

**\---**

Nurses be damned, they hadn't spent a night apart since she'd moved into Baker Street, and if she wanted him to be in her hospital bed then he'd be in her hospital bed. Her head was on his shoulder and he had her gathered up in his arms. He had come so close to losing her. If the bullet had been a few millimeters in a different direction he could have. But as he glanced at the bandages on his own body he knew had kept her alive, kept her safe, and he would keep doing that, for all time.

**\---**

She woke up in the hospital bed, glad he was there with her. She snuggled in closer to him, careful not to dislodge wires and IVs. “You’re awake?” he murmured.

She nodded slightly. “Yeah,” she said. 

“I have to tell you something, Molly.” 

“What is it?” she asked, looking up at him. 

He caressed her face gently, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. “I love you, Molly.” 

She smiled, leaning in to kiss him, pausing just before their lips met. “I love you too, Sherlock.”

**\---**

"Strong people endure." She had been told that since she was young, since her father got sick, since she lost him, since she lost her mum. Right now, though, she wanted to break down. She felt two strong arms go around her, and she pressed her face into Sherlock’s chest, clutched at his shirt as the nightmare subsided. “It’s all right,” he said, smoothing her hair back. “You don’t have to be strong on your own.” And with that, she sobbed.

**\---**

He didn’t hover, but he stayed close, giving her what she asked for, what she needed. He wasn’t sure if what he was doing was the best thing, if it helped, but one day he was on the sofa at Baker Street and she sat next to him, worming her way under his arm, putting her own arm around his waist. After a moment she said “I’m staying here. Permanently.” And then she gave him a grin and that was that. She was going to stay, and he didn't think anything could make him happier.

**\---**

She lifted her head up off the pillow, half awake, half asleep, her limbs tangled with his. She knew what she wanted. She wanted every day to be like this. Every morning at Baker Street, every evening with him. She wanted to be his, wholly and completely, in every way. She wanted to spend every day of the rest of her life in his arms, every chance she got. He looked at her, reached up to touch her face. "Marry me, Sherlock?" she asked.

He nodded, leaning in to kiss her softly. "Of course."

**\---**

He would always cherish her smile, the way it lit up her face, the way it brightened her eyes. It made her entire countenance radiant, made her shine like the brightest star in the sky, and when he put the smile on her face...well, then it was even better. And as he slipped the ring on her finger just moments before she launched herself at him, lips pressed against his, kissing him soundly with all the love she possessed, he knew he'd imagine that smile to the end of his days.

**\---**

She was honoured to have his mother help plan the wedding. She adored her future mother-in-law and had been pleased when Violet had said she’d dreamed of having a daughter like her in the family. It was a wonderful treat to make plans, and even though Sherlock tried to horn in and take over the two women shooed him off, putting their feet down and laughing at his pouts, though Molly kissed them away later with a smile. He didn't seem to mind that _too_ much, she found.

**\---**

Sherlock made his way back to Baker Street, letting himself in. His stag night had been better than John’s, admittedly, but he’d still rather be home with Molly. He saw his bride to be asleep on the sofa, tiara askew on her head and sash across her chest, and he picked her up with a grin, carrying her to bed. “Told Mary my Sherlock’s better than any subpar muscley oiled up beefcake stripper,” she mumbled into his chest, and he grinned as he wondered what he’d have to live down later.

**\---**

“Nervous, love?” Mary asked, watching Molly give herself a look in the mirror.

Molly shook her head, giving her a smile as she smoothed down her dress. Honestly, she felt no nerves whatsoever. “I feel absolutely calm,” she said. 

“Well, good. Then you’re doing better than your husband to be,” Mary said with a laugh. 

"Oh?" 

“Yes. He's quite nervous. Not his usual cool, calm, collected self. It's rather cute. Hopefully we can get him to your same place of Zen.” 

Molly smiled. “Hopefully.”

**\---**

He watched her twirl around the floor with his father, wide smile on her face, white wedding dress billowing out with each turn. Mrs. Molly Holmes. They had done it, they had made it this far. They were officially husband and wife and no one could tear them asunder. The music ended and his father brought his wife back to him, taking his own wife away from her son. "Your father has some moves," Molly said as she slipped into his arms for another dance.

"Like father, like son, apparently."

**\---**

She was hesitant to give him the bundle under her coat. They hadn't talked about it, but Meena had said she had to get rid of it quickly, her landlord was furious and her idiot boyfriend had agreed to take the puppy without asking. She pulled the little white and brown dog out and showed Sherlock. He took the wriggling mutt, holding it up at eye level and examining it. "Female?" Molly nodded. "We can call her Katarina, I suppose." Molly relaxed and the dog yipped in delight as Sherlock grinned.

**\---**

He woke up to cold. The heater was off and Molly, as usual, had stolen all the blankets. He got up and checked the thermostat, frowning. It should be much warmer, which meant it was dead. He went back to bed and then tugged on the blanket, but Molly had a death grip on it. "Molly, the heater is dead, and I will freeze if you don't share," he said, his lips near her ear.

After a moment she rolled over, lifting the quilt up and then scooting forward. "Shared body heat helps too," she said.

**\---**

She watched him sleep, his head resting on the desk, the experiment bubbling away beside him. Typical Sherlock. She supposed he was getting his customary 2.5 hour power nap, she thought with a smile. Best not to disturb him. But maybe a quilt over the shoulders, to ward off the chill. And a small pillow off the sofa under his head? She moved closer with a quilt. “One more hour, Molly,” he murmured, and she smiled as she dropped a kiss in his hair. She hoped he never changed.

**\---**

He looked at the kitchen floor, covered in soap suds, and the door of the washer that was now ajar. He then turned to see Molly standing there, staring at him with hands over her mouth. He wasn't sure whether she was angry or shocked, but then a giggle escaped her lips. Then another. Then a full laugh. Soon she was doubled over with laughter. "Oh, Sherlock," she said, wading through the mess to put her arms around his neck and kiss him soundly. "Don't ever do laundry again, all right?"

**\---**

She pressed a kiss to his pulse point, but it seemed to have no effect. He was still reading his newspaper, calm as he pleased. She applied her teeth, grazing his skin, and still nothing. Finally she pulled away with a huff, stalking away and going to the kitchen sink. That insufferable man, that walking cold shower! He was doing this just to win that silly stupid bet with Mary, and here she was all hot and bothered. She was about to take care of it herself when she turned and saw him there, heat in his eyes, and she grinned. Perhaps she had an effect on him after all…

**\---**

He wanted to sweep her off her feet for their first wedding anniversary. Romantic getaway to someplace exotic, a stunning piece of jewelry, reservations at a hard to get into restaurant…anything to impress her. But Molly hadn’t been feeling well so it was an evening in with a meal cooked by Mycroft’s private chef, a gift of a simple diamond pendant and a mini-marathon of her favorite movies. And somehow, it still seemed absolutely perfect to him.

**\---**

She brought his hand to her belly. It wasn't rounded yet, just the normal pouch where her internal organs were, but she watched his eyes widen as he got her implication. "I'll be a father?" he asked quietly, his voice full of wonder. She nodded, and then he removed his hand from her abdomen and used it and his other one to frame her face, leaning in and kissing her with all the love he possessed. She kissed him back, melting against him, pleased that he was pleased with the news.

**\---**

He pushed his mum and dad down on the sofa at Baker Street. “We have news.”

“Oh?” his mum said, her eyes sparkling. “Your dog had puppies?”

“No,” Sherlock said.

“Molly’s having a paper published?” his father said, a grin on his face.

“No.”

“You and Mycroft are going to actually get along?” his mum said brightly.

Sherlock scowled, shaking his head and stalking over to Molly, gesturing to her abdomen. “Grandchild. You’re going to have a grandchild.”

His mum got up, going over to hug them both. “Yes, dear. We figured that out already.”

“Oh,” he said, disheartened slightly as his parents and Molly chuckled. He’d hoped it’d be more of a surprise, but they seemed pleased, so there was that.

**\---**

Sherlock was off on a case from Lestrade when her sonogram was scheduled, so she told him if he was late she’d let him know what the result was if he wasn’t able to make it. The doctor had just put the wand to her extended abdomen and been told the results when the door slammed open. “Am I too late?” Sherlock asked, trying to catch his breath.

Molly shook his head, looking over at him and motioning for him to come closer. “Congratulations, Sherlock,” she said as her doctor printed out the sonogram of their baby. “It’s a girl.”

He got a wide grin. “A girl?” he said. She nodded, a grin on her own face as the doctor handed him the printout and he traced the first image of their daughter. He was so happy, and so was she.

**\---**

He got every book on parenting he could find. He scoured every website he could, devoured every known fact. He’d even gone so far as to learn how to use cloth nappies and make his own baby food. He was sure he was driving his wife mad, but Molly just watched with a warm smile and a shake of her head, her hand on her belly and would just say “Well, when she comes, I suppose knowing this won’t hurt.” Then she’d kiss his cheek and tell him to come to bed and he’d put it aside for the night.

**\---**

She felt huge and her back ached and she wanted her daughter out _now_. She waddled towards the loo to relieve herself and was almost there when she felt a warm trickle of liquid down her leg. Her eyes widened when she realized what that meant. “Sherlock!” she called out.

He came out of their bedroom, rubbing his eyes and yawning. “Yes?”

“My water broke,” she said.

His eyes widened. “Hospital?”

She nodded. “Hospital.” He turned and walked smack into the doorjamb, cursing for a moment and rubbing his forehead before moving around it and heading into the bedroom. She shook her head and followed. She had the feeling it would be a _long_ day…

**\---**

Amelia Jasmine Holmes was perfect. Absolute perfection. He looked down at the small infant he was holding, watching his daughter yawn and settle into his arms. How had he helped create something so perfect, he marveled? He looked over at Molly, who was dozing in the bed. Eighteen hours of labour but Amelia was there with them now. He leaned over and kissed Molly’s forehead, letting her rest. He would take care of them both, from here on out, for the rest of his days.

**\---**

Molly could just barely hear him over the sound of the baby monitor, being half-asleep and all, but his soothing smooth baritone singing the old lullaby made her smile sleepily. He'd gone to Amelia's crib to allow her some extra sleep the night before she was set to go back to Barts. The dear, dear man. She had chosen well, it seemed. And as she settled back in, eyes fluttering closed, she listened to him sing softly, lulling mother and daughter back to blissful, peaceful sleep. 


End file.
